I’ve just spent the weekend with the best bunch of women ever.  Girls I grew up with.  Went to school with. Danced with (on a stage, in various clubs, at various house parties, inebriated or not).  We’ve kissed the same boys, made the same mistakes.  We’re grown up now.  Some of us are mums, some aren’t.  Some are fulfilled in our careers, some aren’t.  Some earn enough money and have loving supportive partners, some of us don’t.  But above all else we are here for each other, supporting each other, rooting for each other, cheering each other on and empathising and offering advice and guidance (and at least a glass of fizz and a hug) when things seem to be spiralling out of control and going horribly wrong.

We spent the weekend drunk, dancing, singing, destroying our skin in a hot tub.  We bathed in the unseasonably warm weather, got patchy pink bits which we hoped would miraculously turn into golden tan.  When we ventured from the safe haven of our secluded lodge we giggled at our Italian waiter.  So young, so handsome!  We quickly realized we were most probably too loud and lairy for public consumption and we high tailed it back to our blissful lodge where we reminisced over photos taken in the early 90s.  Laughing at our eyebrows (you’d pay for eyebrows like that now OR why did I pluck them all out?!), our hairstyles, our fashion sense (I spent hours customising those green denim shorts!), our attempts at painting on make up.  Our school crushes, first kisses, big mistakes, first forays into drinking brightly coloured alcohol, experimenting (with various degrees of success) with drugs and the messy aftermath of both.  Things got emotional.  Dangerous situations with over-eager teenage boys were analysed and the mums amongst us planned ahead for our children and how we would deal with these situations when they arose in the not so distant future.

Above all else, when the weekend was over and I reluctantly re-entered real life (a bit hoarse from over-eager karaoke, bleary eyed and, I admit it, sporting a 3-day hangover – ouch!) I felt elated and content with my lot.  I woke up every morning of that far too short weekend, cocooned in a crisp, white duvet feeling so lucky.  So lucky that I could still call these women my close friends.  That I still felt so safe and secure in their company.  That I could share my true, authentic, emotional self with them and that they would offer their advice and support without condition or judgment.

I don’t see these women everyday.  We don’t even get the opportunity to speak every day but as we all leap over that 40th birthday with gusto and enter into our middle age (gulp) I can safely say that I’m in the best company ever.  These women have my back and I have theirs and simply put that feels amazing.


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